


the one with the yoga.

by omphale23



Series: Personal Pineapples [6]
Category: Life, Standoff
Genre: Co-Written, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Matt sees Charlie doing yoga he needs to step away for a few minutes to compose himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with the yoga.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [between two points of no return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/70750) by [omphale23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23). 



> What started out as commentfic between [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo.bml?user=caersmane)[**caersmane**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo.bml?user=caersmane), [](http://emiliglia.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**emiliglia**](http://emiliglia.dreamwidth.org/), and me has turned into an actual outtake from _between two points_. Featuring orgasms and yoga. (There, a summary of sorts. Just for SB, who is frequently right about things like that.)

The first time Matt sees Charlie doing yoga he needs to step away for a few minutes to compose himself. Charlie's moved to a new position when Matt comes back out onto the patio, but there's a faint smirk on his lips, as if he knows exactly what just happened.

Matt narrows his eyes. For all he knows, Charlie set the whole thing up precisely for that reaction.

Then again, it's pretty obvious that Charlie's been doing yoga for long enough to be, well, skilled. And that would really explain how flexible he is. Because the laws of physics say that fitting them both into the backseat of any car for a quickie should be impossible, but Charlie—he's managed it several times now. Matt's pretty sure he slipped something out of place during the last attempt, but Charlie and his kinks and how can you refuse when your boyfriend has his hand down your pants?

Matt takes a deep breath and refuses to go back inside, refuses to give in to whatever is making Charlie's smirk widen. "Hey," he says instead and leans back on the wall, because he may not be giving in to the urge take another moment but he can't exactly stop the head rush as all his blood migrates to one specific part of his anatomy.

Charlie stretches from one position into another, his linen pants sliding over the mat, his skin gleaming in the sun, damp with sweat, and Matt bites his bottom lip at the sight, wipes a hand over his forehead. It's still early morning, it can't possibly be this hot, and he's lived in this climate most of his life. But he's sweating just standing still, and _dammit_ Charlie.

The grin cracks out in full force over Charlie's face and Matt curses, realising he's said that last thought out loud, and now Charlie knows he's won, knows what it's doing to Matt.

"Improves stamina and flexibility," Charlie points out conversationally, then falls silent for a moment as he moves into a handstand, holding it solidly, without even a wobble. "Strength too," he adds, then eases down with a grace that makes Matt so weak in the knees that he slides down the wall to sit in an uncomfortable heap.

Matt watches Charlie hesitate, then break the routine and walk over to stand over him. "You should do yoga," Charlie suggests. "I bet after a while we could fit into the backseat of your Mustang."

Matt lifts his eyes slowly, traveling up the yoga pants, lingering on Charlie's obvious arousal, over his naked chest, up to his face. "It's all about the cars with you, isn't it," he says breathlessly, because he can't think of anything else.

Charlie straddles his legs, and Matt stretches them out as Charlie drops carefully to his knees, plants his hands on either side of Matt's head. He smells of sun and sweat, and under that Matt can smell sex and he doesn't want to think of Charlie getting off without him, but he can smell it on his skin or maybe it's just that Matt's brain can't seem to focus on anything else.

"I am not attached to those cars," Charlie murmurs, leaning in to brush his mouth over Matt's lips in a teasing kiss. Matt leans forward to chase the kiss but Charlie pulls away, that insufferable smirk back. "I am attached to you," he adds, and Matt can't help it, can't stop himself; he reaches up and grabs Charlie's head and pulls him in for a proper kiss.

"You know," Matt says with a gasp as Charlie breaks the kiss to pull off Matt's shirt, "not that I'm complaining about this subtle seducer thing you have going on lately, but you can just ask sometimes." He half-yells, half-groans when Charlie bites his shoulder before licking and sucking on the mark. "Not like I'm gonna say no."

"Matt," Charlie says into his skin, working his way down Matt's chest, still kneeling with him pinned against the wall. "I want you to fuck me."

A jolting shiver goes through Matt's body. He finds himself having a hard time coordinating his brain with his mouth and possibly lets out a few embarrassing, unintelligible grunts before managing, "Inside. _Now_."

Charlie grabs Matt's hand and pulls him to his feet. He barely gets his shirt back on in case Ted's awake, struggles with it because Charlie's not helping with his coordination. Charlie's walking backwards across the patio, his eyes on Matt like if he blinks, Matt will disappear. Matt laughs, and when he does Charlie quirks a smile and turns, opens the sliding door and takes off running.

They race up the stairs, Charlie's longer legs giving him the advantage. But Matt's determined, and by the time they get to the top he's close enough to get a grip on those stupid, ridiculously hot pants, wrap his arm around Charlie's waist, and bring them both crashing up against the wall. He's reaching for the tie when Charlie gasps out "Ted. Kitchen," and Matt shakes his head, hearing the pans start to crash together as a warning.

*

Charlie can tell that Matt's annoyed, but he's serious, they have to—they can't stay out here.

Ted's told them repeatedly about keeping it down, warned that if they don't, _the neighbors will hear, like when they called the police, thinking someone next door was getting killed._ Plus, when Matt's not around, Ted's making suggestions about his own guest house or even a house somewhere else. As in a separate building for himself. Because while he can _appreciate the sheer space created by the complete lack of furniture, it doesn't help the acoustics of the house._ Charlie himself is not a loud man, but Matt is, and the yelling is frequently Charlie's fault.

Most of the time Ted just makes loud breakfasts and does a lot of sighing, but sometimes it gets to be too much, and Charlie feels guilty afterwards.

So he knots his fingers in Matt's shirt, and uses it to pull Matt down the landing and up against the bedroom door.

*

Charlie must not think the alcove is quite enough privacy, and Matt wonders briefly what else he has in mind as Charlie pins him up against the door for a fast, hard kiss before he reaches behind Matt and turns the latch, shoves him into the bedroom backwards.

Matt almost stumbles, but Charlie holds his arms tight and half-pushes, half-drags for a moment, until Matt catches his balance and starts pulling his shirt back off. His arms are over his head, working the cotton off quickly, when Charlie leans in and shifts his hands and suddenly Matt's upside down over Charlie's shoulder like some kind of _girl_, for fuck's sake, and it's annoying and embarrassing and, what he'd never admit to Charlie, a little hot.

Matt would care about the noise, he really would, and Charlie keeps grinning at him and telling him to keep it down, but—he's upside down. He can't see and Charlie is still managing to laugh, the bastard, as he shifts Matt's weight and slides his hand higher and Matt doesn't yelp, he doesn't. Except maybe he does a little, because Charlie is running his hand over Matt's ass and walking toward the shower. Matt was hoping for the bed, because Charlie may be flexible but Matt's still got bruises on his knees from the last time, when his hands slipped on the tile and he barely managed to avoid braining himself on the faucet.

*

Charlie pauses in front of the bed, thinks about it. Matt always looks fantastic in his bed, spread out on the softest sheets Charlie could find. Matt loves this bed and Charlie does, too. It's a good bed.

But he's sweaty and sticky and they've got all day, so he shifts Matt on his shoulder and turns away from it. They almost never get as far as getting clean when Matt's like this, but maybe he can at least rinse off before they get too carried away.

*

Charlie's not asking Matt's opinion, and when he finally sets Matt down, Charlie pulls off the shirt, says, "you wear too many clothes. Why do you need a shirt on a day like today?" and starts unbuttoning and unzipping. Matt just stands there like an idiot, because it's seven in the morning and he hasn't had any coffee yet, and he's untethered by the way Charlie's pants have slid impossibly lower on his hips.

Charlie finishes stripping Matt and turns away, bends to start the shower running, and Matt's brain clicks back on at the sight of the pants clinging over Charlie's ass. He reaches for Charlie again, but Charlie has decided to run the show and he steps back, tilts his head toward the shower and waves Matt inside.

Matt steps into the shower, and maybe they should purchase those non-slip things that old people buy so they don't fall in the shower and break a hip. With how often they use the shower for more than just showering, it could be a wise investment.

He notices that he's still alone in the shower and Charlie's just outside, watching the way the droplets run across Matt's body, the thin material of his pants doing a very poor job of concealing how turned on Charlie is.

Matt takes advantage of Charlie's distracted state, wraps one hand around the grab bar to give him enough leverage against the wet floor and then grabs Charlie's wrist with the other, yanking him into the shower hard enough that Charlie goes careening into Matt, slamming Matt's shoulder into the wall, but then Charlie's mouth and hands are on him, shoving away the thought of the bruise he's going to have tomorrow.

As if the linen yoga pants hadn't been obscene enough earlier, now they're soaked through, clinging tight to every inch of Charlie's skin and rendered nearly transparent.

And what's more, Matt can look but he can't touch, not really, because wet linen is not an easy thing to remove.

*

Charlie starts to get frustrated, because his fingers aren't cooperating and natural fabrics are fine, he approves of them—they're ecologically friendly and comfortable and he approves, he usually likes this pair except that he can't get the damn pants off now and that is _not_ making him—Matt steps closer, pushes Charlie back against the wall and slides his knee between Charlie's legs. Charlie chokes back a moan and Matt grins, shifts forward until there's no space between them, only the thin fabric. Charlie inhales sharply as Matt turns his head, drags his lips over Charlie's jaw and down his neck to Charlie's shoulder.

*

Charlie tastes like chlorine and sweat and Saturday mornings—always Matt's favorite because those are the mornings they wake up early to go to the market, where Charlie walks around and bounces a little with excitement and makes weird conversational gambits with shopkeepers as he chooses things that Matt used to complain about eating. Charlie tastes like summer afternoons, and Matt's half here, under the spray, and half in his head, thinking of seasons and questions and Charlie diving into water surrounded by mountains Matt doesn't remember visiting.

Charlie groans against him, and Matt snaps back to the present, pulls Charlie's hips forward until he's bowed out from the wall, shoulders vibrating with tension as Matt slides to his knees and pulls at the knot of Charlie's pants, gets the tie loose and slips his fingers beneath the waistband, gently pushes the fabric lower.

Charlie wraps his fingers in Matt's hair and tightens them, pulls Matt forward but Matt's determined not to let him win this round.

*

Charlie clenches the grab bar in a white-knuckled grip and leans into it, his arms between his body and the shower wall. Holding yoga positions is one thing. Trying not to collapse from the look in Matt's eyes as he ever so slowly pulls down Charlie's pants, the fabric wet and hot and sliding against his cock, takes more patience.

Matt stops when the pants are halfway down Charlie's thighs, effectively keeping him from being able to move too much, which seems to be exactly how Matt wants him as Matt nuzzles his face between Charlie's legs, biting and sucking at the insides of his thighs, marking him. He tries to remember if Matt had been anywhere near this possessive before he left, but the train of thought is violently derailed by the feeling of Matt's wet hair tickling along his legs followed by the heat of his breath at the base of Charlie's dick, teasing.

Charlie watches a sadistic smile spread across Matt's face. "Turn around," he says, his voice deep, and Charlie obliges.

*

Matt slides Charlie's hands a little higher on the wall, kicks Charlie's feet wider as he reaches for the lube.

Charlie's not one for planning ahead, but Matt insisted that they start keeping supplies in the shower months ago; he's not big on dripping water all over the carpet in the middle of sex. Now all he has to do is feel around for the bottle, and he grabs it, leans forward until he's pressed up against Charlie's back, so that when he pops the cap he can feel Charlie tense and then relax, shifting backward against him.

It's always fun when Charlie begs. He's good at it, and Matt's creative when it comes to making Charlie squirm. He wraps his other hand over the tattoo on Charlie's hip, slides it down to Charlie's dick and stops there, hand wrapped around but not moving, just letting Charlie wait until he growls in frustration and starts to push into Matt's grip.

Matt immediately lets go, steps back and grins, because this is the best part, the part where they find out which of them wants it more. Well, not the best part. But the best part other than the actual fucking, which _is_ the best part.

Right now, Matt's winning the battle of wills, and he's enjoying it more than he will ever admit.

Charlie's still steady against the wall, and he's trying to wait Matt out, so Matt drips lube on his fingers, shifts closer again and then wraps his slick hand back around Charlie's dick, starts to stroke while he mutters, "Still want to get fucked? Sure about that?"

Charlie's answer isn't in English.

*

There are no words in the noises he's making, as Matt strokes him with one hand and with the other rubs his fingers along Charlie's ass. Charlie tries to spread his legs farther, to try and get the point across to Matt that he needs to hurry the hell up, but then he remembers the pants not even halfway down his legs. He's about to rip the damn things apart to get out of them when Matt chuckles against his neck. Charlie leans back into Matt, grinding against Matt's cock, and turns the laugh into a groan.

"Want you. Need you," Charlie says, not caring if it sounds like he's whining a little.

"I know, but not in here," Matt replies. "Think we've risked enough concussions—don't need to press our luck."

Charlie's fairly impressed that Matt can still string so many words into a sentence.

*

Matt holds it together long enough to turn the shower off, and then he scrambles out and starts grabbing towels off the vanity, throws one at Charlie without looking and runs another over his hair to get off the worst of the water. His hands are shaking and he's going to need an actual shower later, but for now Matt's only worried about getting dry so that he can get dirty again.

He can't look at Charlie. Bad enough that he can hear Charlie, panting a little and trying for the deep breaths that he uses to calm himself, pull back from the edge. Charlie must still be leaning against the shower wall—Matt hasn't heard him step out onto the tile.

If he looks, if he glances over and sees Charlie standing there, Matt's not going to be able to drag himself out of the bathroom and to the bed. If he looks over at Charlie, Matt won't be able to do anything but climb back in behind him and fuck him up against the wall, pull Charlie's hips back and push inside and take Charlie apart one slow dragging thrust at a time.

Matt wants to do that, he does, he _really_ wants to do that. And Charlie is so damn hot like this, Charlie is going to _kill_ Matt with how hot he is, but Matt doesn't want another brush with death while they're fucking. Not today, at least. The thing with the pool, when Charlie forgot that Matt couldn't hold his breath as long and he almost drowned, that was enough for one week.

So Matt doesn't look at Charlie, just growls, "Get your ass out of the shower, Crews, or I'm finishing without you," and does his best to walk a straight line back into the bedroom. He almost manages it. As he drags down the blankets, he hears Charlie finally stumble out of the shower and—by the muffled swearing and clank of the towel bar—right into the door. Matt chuckles and reaches into the nightstand for a condom and another bottle of lube.

By the time Charlie makes it out of the bathroom, Matt's lying in the middle of the bed, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other behind his head. The break has taken just enough of the edge that he can smile slowly at Charlie and tilt his hips up, even if the motion does make him sound a little breathless. "Last chance to change your mind."

*

Charlie sprints the rest of the way to the bed but he's calmer now, and when he drops to the mattress next to Matt, he doesn't fumble or hesitate, just grabs the condom and rolls it onto Matt's dick with a practiced move. Matt's still catching up, slicking himself up and checking that the cap is back on the bottle, when Charlie kneels up over him and shifts, lowers himself onto Matt's dick slowly, lets it build until they're both straining and breathless. When Matt starts to push up, wants to rush this, Charlie tips forward and lays his hands on either side of Matt's head, kisses him hard, says, "Don't move."

*

Matt would argue, he'd protest, but Charlie reaches for his hands and twines their fingers together above Matt's head, teases him with kisses that aren't quite enough, that give Matt almost enough time to catch his breath. He smiles as Matt starts to follow his mouth, trying for more contact, more friction, more of this, more of Charlie. He laughs when Matt tries to shove his hips up, push deeper, and the teasing is going to give Matt a heart attack. Charlie will be sorry when that happens.

When Matt points this out, in between trying to stretch upward and steal another kiss and groaning in frustration, Charlie closes his eyes and settles into an actual rhythm. Charlie rides him slowly, grinds down even as he's still leaning in for kisses that make Matt's head swim. He loses track of time and _fuck_, Matt is so glad Charlie took up yoga.

He's just thanking whoever invented those damn flexibility poses when Charlie shudders, loses his place a little. Matt knows that he's close, so he pulls his hands out from under Charlie's and wraps one hand around Charlie's dick. He matches the motion of their bodies while he reaches up with the other and wraps his palm around Charlie's neck, threads his fingers into Charlie's hair and pulls his head down. Matt kisses Charlie, pulls back a fraction and mutters, "You are so gorgeous like this, you know that? It's enough to make me—" he thrusts up harder, pauses to give Charlie another kiss, "—to make me take up yoga." Charlie groans and tenses, comes hard and Matt thrusts again, pushes into Charlie as he clenches around Matt's dick, thinks of Charlie sliding over the mat in the sunshine, and the world rings pale and violet green and all he can feel is Charlie.

*

Charlie braces himself over Matt and waits for him to open his eyes. When he does, Charlie smirks. "I'm holding you to that, you know."

Matt smiles back, still dazed, and then blinks. "Wait—holding me to what?"

Charlie grins wider. "To yoga. You'll enjoy it. We'll get up early and I promise, after a few weeks you aren't even going to need coffee to wake up in the morning."

"Oh. If you say so." Matt shuts his eyes again.

Charlie snickers and rolls off him, but Matt's asleep before he answers.


End file.
